


The Shirt

by springawake



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: I'm just here to have a good time, M/M, either way peg is in the know about bj's big ol' crush on hawkeye and she's cool with it lol, god i haven't written fic in ages who knows what other tags this should have lmao, i can never decide if i prefer lesbian peg, or bi peg and punnihawk, set somewhere in the general vicinity of early s7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springawake/pseuds/springawake
Summary: The arrival of the pink shirt we all know and love!! Just a little flash piece, featuring my boy Radar.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38
Collections: MAIL CALL: M*A*S*H Flash Festival





	The Shirt

“Radar? Hey, Radar! Wake up, I need you to make a call for me.”

 _“C’pn Hunnicutt?_ What—aw, _gee_ , BJ, it’s three o’clock in the morning!” Radar cried, clutching his teddy a little tighter and trying to wave off BJ, who was currently shaking Radar’s shoulders. “Who the heck are you gonna call at three am? Everyone’s asleep.”

“Ah, but back in Mill Valley, Peg is currently bustling about making yesterday’s lunch,” BJ corrected, not so gently guiding Radar to his feet and over to his desk. “Perfect time to call.”

“What do you need from Mrs. Hunnicutt?” Radar asked, giving BJ a bleary look while he cranked the phone.

“I’ve got this undershirt back home—”

“An _undershirt?”_

“Beautiful cashmere, linen… cotton blend. It’s been languishing in my closet since I got shipped over here, and if I leave it there much longer, the moths’ll get to it. I want you to ask Peg to send it over here. For safe keeping.”

“To _Korea?_ Where it can get shelled, and—and shot at and stuff?”

“Precisely.”

Radar gave BJ a dubious look. “I think I’d rather take the moths. Hey, Sparky? I need you to put a call through to California. _I know_ what time it is, but over there it’s eleven o’clock yesterday morning! Yeah, yeah…”

“Mail call! Captain Hunnicutt, that package from Mrs. Hunnicutt arrived, I hope it made the trip okay—”

“Ooh, don’t tell me it’s more of those _delectable_ brownies,” Hawkeye crowed, snatching the package from Radar’s hands before BJ could get off his bunk. And then he paused, pulling a face and hefting the box in his hands. “Beej, I hate to break it to you, but I think the boys over at customs beat us to it—feel how light this package is!”

“It’s not brownies,” BJ said, rolling his eyes, plucking the box from Hawkeye’s lap. “It’s just uh, Peg was clearing out the closet, found this old shirt of mine—she wanted to make space for a new sweater she bought, so she shipped it over here. Thought I might like it.”

Radar’s mouth had dropped open. “You— _you!_ Old shirt? You woke me up at _three am_ just for a—”

BJ shot Radar a tight smile. “Don’t you have more mail to deliver?”

Radar snapped his mouth shut at once. _“Well.”_ He threw a pile of letters on Charles’s bunk and stormed out of the Swamp in a huff.

Hawkeye dropped himself on BJ’s bunk with a knowing smile and a wave of his eyebrows. “Let’s see this shirt, shall we?”

BJ tried waving him off. “It’s nothing, just an old undershirt—probably covered in mothballs—”

“No no, it must be _spectacular_ if you woke up poor ol’ Radar in the middle of the night to arrange a special delivery,” Hawkeye laughed, taking the package back from BJ before he could protest and tearing off the packing tape, tossing aside Peg’s carefully folded tissue paper.

“My. What a _stunning_ shade of salmon—”

“Oh, hush—”

“No, Beej, this really is your color—”

“I just thought it would be nice! Liven this place up a little.” BJ carefully took the box back from Hawkeye, setting it on the bunk on his other side. Turning back to Hawkeye. Their knees brushing together. “You know. Provide a distinctly un-military pop of rebellion.”

Hawkeye gave BJ another knowing smile. “Like I said. Suits you perfectly. It’ll go nicely with those high top Chucks Bigfoot sent back when he was clearing out _his_ closet.”

BJ shook his head, trying to hide his grin. And also the way he kept watching Hawk’s knee, breath catching every time it bumped against his. And then Hawkeye turned to him again, his whole leg pressing against BJ now.

“Hey wait a sec—BJ, what happened to that red sweatshirt you made for the anti-green party?” Hawkeye asked, giving BJ a _very_ handsy nudge to the leg that made his heart jump into his throat. “I mean no offense, but as lovely as this undershirt is, I hardly think it can beat _that_ for an un-military pop of color.”

BJ flashed a quick smile. “Still smelled like the paint I used to dye it. Gave me headaches every time I wore it, so I just went ahead and burned the damn thing. And given how _quick_ it went up, I’m glad I didn’t hold onto it any longer than I did—unlike Klinger, I don’t fancy lighting myself on fire in an attempt to get out of the army.”

Hawkeye let out a loud squawk of laughter, throwing a hand on BJ’s shoulder and nearly knocking him over in the process. BJ just gave him a fond smile, throwing an arm around Hawkeye in an attempt to keep him upright. And. And because it felt nice.

“So the red sweatshirt met an untimely demise,” BJ went on, “and unfortunately, you’re stuck with a somewhat subtler gesture of defiance. Hopefully the pink will do.”

“It’ll do,” Hawkeye chuckled, wiping his eyes—how he’d managed to laugh himself to tears in such a short time, BJ would never know. “It’ll do, Beej.”


End file.
